


It's Quiet Uptown

by StrangerWriter



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Jopper, broken Hopper, lonnie is a piece of shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 12:33:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17828645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrangerWriter/pseuds/StrangerWriter
Summary: It's 1979 when Hopper moves back to Hawkins, Indiana. It's there that he is forced to deal with the loss of his daughter, the ending of his marriage, and a relationship from his past.





	It's Quiet Uptown

**Author's Note:**

> Felt inspired to write this when I read that David said Hopper and Joyce dated in high school before she fell for Lonnie. I was never 100% sure, but that was straight from the man himself so...

“I think it’d be best if you leave,” she said to him.

“Diane, please hear me out. I’m sorry,” he begged with anguish. “Can’t we just-“

“You need to leave Jim.”

It was direct and emotionless.

He stayed away for 2 nights thinking that she would change her mind. He called home over twenty times every day, but she never answered. On the third day, he went back to the house, _their_ house.

He opened the front door and was shocked to see the house almost empty, their belongings all packed away in boxes. There were only about 20 or so with his name on the side.

“Diane?” he called. “What the hell is this?” He stormed through the house until he found her in Sara’s bedroom.

Her room was almost completely packed too, all except for her little desk.

“Diane.” Her name barely made it out of his mouth. He didn’t like being in here; neither of them did. They had kept the door shut pretty much since the last time she went into the hospital.

“Your things are labeled and ready for you to take.” She wouldn’t even look at him.

His heart was racing. This couldn’t be real.

Sure, it had been a devastatingly hard, unimaginable, two months that they had gone through. But they would get through it together. He knew he couldn’t do this alone; he _needed_ her.

“You can go through these if you want to.” She motioned towards the boxes already lined up against the wall- all of Sara’s life packed neatly away in little brown squares. “I filed the papers this morning,” she said simply. She walked out and left him standing all alone in the room.

And that was it.

It was over.

The air rushed out of him, and he dropped to the floor on his knees, sobbing until there was nothing left.

Diane never came back.

He finally stood up and attempted to go through one of Sara’s boxes before they disappeared too. Immediately on top was her favorite blue overalls, neatly folded. He pulled his hand back and let the flap fall closed. He couldn’t do this right now.

He walked to her door to leave but stopped at her desk. Laying on top next to her box of crayons, was one of the last pictures she had drawn. It was the three of them standing under a large sun in front of their house. He picked it up, barely even able to even look at it, and slid it in one of the boxes labeled “Jim.”

He practically ran out of the house, letting the front door slam shut behind him; the other boxes would have to wait until tomorrow. Maybe if he left them there long enough, Diane would change her mind.

He couldn’t lose her too.

He forced himself back the next day and nearly everything except his belongings were gone. He moved all the boxes out to the bed of his pickup, wondering how his life had been reduced down to fit into the back of one truck. He made a final trip to Sara’s bedroom with a small empty box that he had labeled with her name. At least Diane had left those boxes there long enough for him to go through.

He went through what he could before he couldn’t take it any longer. He had removed her overalls, one of her favorite blankets, a stuffed seal that they had gotten from the zoo last summer, and a few of her books.

He glanced down at the blue hair band on his wrist, remembering how he had gotten it. One morning after Sara had gotten sick, she could tell that he was having a hard time leaving her to go to work. _So we can still be together daddy_ , she had said, sliding a matching one on her own wrist.

With a heavy sigh, he put the lid on the small box and shut the light off. He would leave the rest for Diane to take care of. That was the price she would have to pay for doing this to him.

Hopper turned around to give one final look over their now empty home. He swore he could see Sara running down the stairs, smiling, but he blinked, and she was gone.

Just like his entire life.

Hopper ate fast food and lived out of boxes in a shitty motel while he finished out the last 2 weeks at his job, basically on desk duty the entire time since he was rather useless anyway. He tried to keep everything quiet from the other guys at work, but it was obvious that he wasn’t doing well, and word traveled fast that Diane had left him. Why else would he be giving up a great job as a New York cop to go back to his tiny hometown of Hawkins, Indiana- the quiet, boring place that he couldn’t wait to get away from when he graduated high school.

On his last day with the unit, Hopper put his best ‘everything is fine’ façade on and said goodbye to the guys he called his friends, promising to keep in touch, but knowing that he wouldn’t. Anything that reminded him of New York would be too much.

With his one truck load of belongings, he clocked out of his job for the last time on Friday night and drove the 12 hours straight through to Indiana.

He was starting with the Hawkins Police Department on Monday as their new chief. Benny, one of the few friends from Hawkins that he had kept in touch with, had called to see how he had been doing about a month ago and casually mentioned the opening to him, you know, “if he and Diane needed a change.”

Most people would have taken some time off in between jobs to settle in, to grieve, but he knew time off would not be a good thing for him.

Just before 8 AM Saturday morning, he pulled up to the sight unseen trailer that he had purchased. It was on a small lake and came furnished, which he needed since he was starting over with nothing. It wasn’t the worst decision he could have made. He got out and stared at the lake. It was isolated and impossibly quiet. He went back to his truck and smoked a cigarette, while waiting for the realtor to drop his keys off.

He fell asleep in the driver’s seat and woke up to someone knocking on the window. He opened the door and saw a familiar face. Though it had been years, she looked almost the same. Her name was Sandra Nelson, and she had graduated the year before he did. They used to party together back in the day.

“Hi Jim,” she said, when he opened the door of his truck. “Welcome home. I’ve got your keys and a few papers for you to sign.”

She handed him the keys, and they walked up the steps together. Inside was a couch, an end table, and a mismatched chair. Apparently, he was still going to have to get a few things.

They sat down on the couch and he signed the papers, finalizing the purchase. Sandra, and well, just about the entire town, had heard the rumors of why he was back in Hawkins when they found out that he was going to be the new police chief.

 _Daughter died. Wife left him. Poor Jim_.

“I’m really sorry to hear about everything,” she told him sympathetically, resting her hand on top of his.

“Yeah, thanks,” he said quickly. He didn’t want to talk about it, not now, not ever, but he knew he would have to get used to this, as it was going to be happening a lot over the next few weeks. “So uh, you never got married?” he asked, moving his hand out from under hers to touch her ring finger. He tried to remember how to do this…

“I was,” she replied, making it obvious that she was lonely like him, and that was all he needed to hear.

Apparently, he was still good at this because in 30 minutes, they were picking their clothes up off the floor. “You really haven’t changed much, have you Jim?” Sandra smiled, buttoning her shirt.

Though she had been completely wrong, he shrugged his shoulders anyway.

“So do you want to go to dinner sometime?” Sandra asked.

“Yeah, totally, Sandy. I’ll call you to set something up once I get all unpacked and settled in.”

He wouldn’t.

“Alright. Well, I guess you have my number.” She smiled and kissed him one last time.

“Right, yeah. Thanks for helping me break the place in,” he laughed, putting his jeans back on.

The whole interaction was fake. He thought that part was obvious, but she smiled at him and told him goodbye, with a clear indication that she expected to be hearing from him again; she would be the one to save poor, broken Jim Hopper.

After she left, he fell asleep on the couch without bringing a single box of his belongings inside.

Weeks passed, and eventually all the sympathetic faces that came back from his past moved on, and everybody wasn’t looking at him with pity all the time anymore. He slowly unpacked some of his things and repacked up a few boxes that he wasn’t ready to look at just yet. He left those far away in his grandfather’s cabin.

His job was boring, just the way he liked it. Hawkins was the complete opposite of New York City. There was minimal crime, mainly just speeding tickets and the town’s teenagers being idiots. He never had to think much, and it was easy.

But one Friday night when a kid called in domestic dispute between his parents, he offered to take the call, not realizing where he would be headed.

Hopper pulled up the long driveway and stepped out. The house was quiet, and he knocked on the door. “Police,” he called.

A shirtless Lonnie Byers answered the door. “Really?” laughed Lonnie when he saw who it was. He had heard that Hopper was back in town as the new “chief,” but he had yet to see him for himself. “What do you want?”

“We got a call about a domestic dispute from this address,” Jim said.

If he had known whose house this was, he never would have taken the call. He and Joyce dated way back in high school before she fell for Lonnie, and Hopper and Lonnie had never quite gotten along, even back then. However, he hadn’t seen him in years and he wasn’t sure that he was even still with Joyce, so he tried to remain professional.

“Domestic dispute?!” Lonnie slurred, clearly intoxicated. “Why don’t you just mind your own damn business,” he said, attempting to close the door in Hopper’s face.

“Yeah, well,” Hopper’s hand slammed the door back open. “I still need to look around inside. It’s procedure.” Lonnie stood back and held his hands up, letting him enter.

“You here alone?” Hopper asked, when he didn’t immediately see anybody.

“Wife and kids are here.”

“And they are-“

“Sleeping,” Lonnie replied quickly.

“Do you know who could have made a call about a disturbance then?”

“Nope. So like I said, why don’t you just get out of here and mind your own fucking business,” Lonnie growled, getting more irritated.

“I’m going to need to talk to your wife.”

“Oh, I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you." Though Hopper had been gone for many years, he figured now that Joyce and Lonnie were in fact, still together. “You think you can just come waltzing back into town throwing your dick around where it doesn’t belong? I don’t think so. No, it doesn’t work like that.”

“Listen.” Hopper pulled his handcuffs out. “We can do this your way, or we can do it mine.”

“Gonna arrest me?” Lonnie laughed. “For what?”

“I’ll figure something out,” Hopper threatened casually.

Lonnie shook his head and went down the hallway. “Joyce, get the fuck out here. It’s the police.”

She came out of their bedroom, with a large sweatshirt and jeans on, her arms wrapped tightly around her midsection.

He saw a look of surprise and then embarrassment pass through her face. She clearly wasn’t expecting to see him.

“Everything okay here Joyce?”

Though he hadn’t seen her in a such a long time, she looked nearly the same. Maybe a little more worn down, a little more oppressed than he remembered, but hell, the same could be said for himself.

“It’s fine, everything’s fine,” she reassured him quickly.

“Well, we uh, got a call about a domestic dispute,” Hopper explained.

“Oh, that was probably just from one of the kids. They must have heard us arguing. I suppose we were being a little loud.”

“There you go. It’s just one of the little fags getting all whiny because I raised my voice at their mother. Now like I told you, get the fuck out.”

Hopper almost lost it right there hearing Lonnie speak about his own wife and children like that. He directed his attention to Joyce instead. “Can I talk to you outside for a minute?”

“You heard her. We were just arguing. I’m damn sure that’s not a crime,” Lonnie interjected, speaking for her.

“Joyce,” Hopper pressed, not taking his eyes off her. _God, she deserved more than this ungrateful, piece of shit_.

Joyce sighed. “I’ll be back in a minute.” She pushed past Lonnie and followed Hopper outside. She didn’t want rumors to spread, so she knew she had to smooth this over.

They closed the door and stood in silence for a few seconds.

“Listen, I appreciate your concern,” she started.

“Joyce, if you need help-“ he spoke softly.

“I’m fine Hopper,” she immediately interrupted. “We’re fine. Yes, we fight a lot and our marriage isn’t perfect, but Lonnie’s not…abusive, if that’s what you are thinking.” She had a hard time saying the word out loud, giving away her lie.

Or maybe she was just in denial.

Things _had_ started off small. Jonathan noticed that his mom would wince when their dad grabbed her arm too tightly, or he would put his hands on her if she tried to stick up for herself when they argued. He never left permanent marks or anything, at least as far as a kid could tell. But that night when Lonnie got too drunk and shoved her so hard that she fell over breaking a lamp, Jonathan hid in the kitchen and secretly called the cops. He really hated his dad and sometimes wished he would just disappear.

Hopper had heard excuses like hers many times before. Women too afraid to speak up, too afraid to break the cycle of abuse, but those were all women he didn’t know, women he didn’t have a history with. In high school, Joyce took no shit from anyone, including him and Lonnie, and though she was small, she was tough.

“Why do you think one of the kids called us then?”

“I don’t know. I guess we were being a little loud. We’ll try to be quieter, so they don’t get so worried.”

Hopper searched her face for any injuries, any visible sign that she wasn’t telling the truth, but there was nothing. “Alright,” he said with a sigh. He pulled out a notepad from his front pocket and scribbled his personal number down for her. “If you ever need anything, call me. I mean it,” he said handing the paper to her.

Joyce nodded, knowing that she would never be calling. She folded up the slip of paper and stuck it in her pocket. “Yeah, thanks Hop,” she said with a smile meant to reassure him.

Hopper tried to let that be the last time he thought about Joyce Byers.

About a month later, he came home on a Friday night to hear a message from Diane, the first he’d heard her voice since leaving New York. He called her back and she informed him that the divorce papers would be in the mail. She asked if there was anything else of Sara’s that he wanted before she donated it. He was sure there probably was, but there was no way he would be able to get there to go through her things again. Diane ended the conversation by asking him not to call her unless he absolutely had to. _It was too hard to talk to him,_ she would say.

So that night when he entered The Hideaway, he planned to do just that- hideaway and get absolutely trashed. But he soon realized that was a stupid assumption here in Hawkins, where everyone knew everyone, and this was basically the only bar in town. He diverted from his plans to wallow in his own misery and played a few rounds of pool with some old friends instead, not entirely hating it.

It was around midnight, when Lonnie Byers walked in, already inebriated.

“Oh, hey buddy,” he scoffed, putting his arm around Hopper at the bar.

If Hopper wasn’t already drunk too, the next few minutes probably would have gone entirely differently. 

But in the end, he was glad they didn’t.

Lonnie sat down next to him. “I want you to stay away from my wife. You hear me?”

“Then maybe you should start treating your family with a little more respect,” Hopper warned, finishing the last of his whiskey.

“Whatever that dumb bitch told you ain’t true. It was an accident.” Lonnie hadn’t meant to let that last bit slip out, but it was all the confirmation Hopper needed. The bar was relatively busy, so that made it easy for him to drag Lonnie’s drunken, sorry ass outside without making a scene.

Hopper slammed him up against the bricks and Lonnie swung at his face, cracking Hopper’s lip. Hopper brought his hand back and punched Lonnie hard in the stomach. “You feel that?” He swung back and did it again. “That’s your liver. The nice thing about the liver is if you hit it just right, you can hit the vagus nerve. Your brain short circuits and your body feels like it’s shutting down.”

Lonnie was doubled over gasping for breath. Hopper’s time undercover on the streets had at least taught him some useful skills. There wouldn’t be any evidence of damage, but he knew Lonnie wouldn’t forget how it felt. “Now you listen to me carefully. If I ever hear about you putting your hands on Joyce or one of your kids ever again, you are going to disappear.” It was a simple enough threat. Hopper didn’t intend on ever actually killing him, but it damn sure made him feel better.

He dropped Lonnie to the ground and went back inside. He slipped some money on the bar counter and grabbed his coat to head home. He was pretty sure Lonnie wasn’t going to tell anyone about what went on. That would mean he would have to admit to abusing his wife, and he knew he wasn’t going to let that slip out again.

It was only a few months later when he heard that Lonnie was having an affair, and Joyce had kicked him out for good.

Days passed, and weeks turned into months. Hopper thought he was doing an okay job at forgetting his old life. There was no point in grieving over it, over Sara, over Diane. They were gone and there was nothing he could do to change any of it.

Then one night he started seeing Sara everywhere, and that continued into the next day, and the next, and the next, until the alcohol wasn’t enough to numb him and make her go away anymore. When Flo had to drive him home one day after finding him shaking and staring off into space at his desk, he realized that he needed help.

A doctor prescribed some pills, and they made Sara go away; they made him feel a little less crazy. It was at least enough that he could function and do a better job at pretending to be okay again.

There was no shortage of women who were lined up to try to help him move on either. He figured word would get around eventually that Jim Hopper never really went out on second dates, but thankfully for him, women who felt like they had been used for sex didn’t really like to bring that up to other people.

Did he crave more than one night stands? Absolutely. But he wasn’t going to allow himself to get hurt like that ever again, so this was just easier.

Against his better judgement, he called Diane on their wedding anniversary. He just needed to hear her voice and he wanted to tell her how much he thought she would like it here in quiet Hawkins.

A man answered the phone, and Hopper thought he could feel his heart in his throat. The papers had been signed for almost a year now, so of course she would move on eventually, but it didn’t change how much this hurt. His name was Bill, and _please, Jim, stop calling here._

That night he drank until he passed out and woke up the next morning covered in vomit, not entirely sure how he didn’t aspirate and suffocate.

One night the following month, he stopped in to pick a refill of his prescription, and she had been working.

“Hey Joyce,” he said, clutching the prescription bag tightly in his hand. He wondered why he felt uncomfortable about her knowing that he was taking these pills. After all, almost everyone in town already knew about his near mental breakdown. And Joyce had received a bit of a reputation after Lonnie left too.

“Oh hi Jim,” she replied, smiling when she saw him.

“Haven’t seen you here this late before,” he commented, searching through the snacks next to the counter as a distraction. He threw a few bags of chips on the counter and buried the prescription bag underneath them.

“Yeah, you know. Lonnie’s gone now, so I’ve picked up some longer shifts.” She scanned the barcodes without really even looking at the products.

“Oh yeah. I heard about that. I’m really sorry.” He wasn’t, but it felt like the considerate thing to say. “How are you doing?”

She heard the phrase a hundred times a day, as she made small talk to other customers. But this time it sounded different- like he had actually meant it.

“Oh, you know. Fine. The kids are fine,” she excused quickly. He wasn’t asking about the kids, and she knew it.

“That’s good,” Hopper replied, immediately sensing that it made her uncomfortable. He knew the exact feeling, so he let it go. “Can I get a pack of unfiltered Camels too?”

She turned away and the memories of their time together hit him hard. She was the first girl to ever break his heart.

“That’ll be 3.67,” she said looking to the cash register.

He paid for the items and grabbed the bag, hesitating.

_Just do it._

_Just ask her out for a drink._

It didn’t have to be anything more than that.

“Joyce.”

“Jim,” she answered with a tired smile.

He paused and looked out the door.

“Well, uh, have a good night, alright?”

“You too,” she nodded.

He thought that it was blatantly obvious that he was making a fool out of himself, but Joyce didn’t catch it. She knew that she would be alone from now on because who wanted to be with an anxiety ridden, divorced, poor, mother of two. When Lonnie left, she slowly found out that her children were all she really needed anyway.

Hopper made his way out to his Blazer, popping the orange prescription bottle open with shaking hands. He dry swallowed two pills and put his head in his hands, leaning against the steering wheel with a heavy sigh.

Joyce deserved so much more than Jim Hopper, and so he knew he would never bring her down into his black hole.


End file.
